Mad House
by twostrandsofmelody
Summary: An alternate variation to the work room scene in "Hat Trick". Jefferson uses force to make her to make his hat and also to satisfy a lust that's been twenty-eight plus years needing to be consumed.


**SMUT WARNING: It's impossible for me to do a PWP. Alternate to Hat Trick workshop scene. **

"I am going to _fuck_ you within an inch of your life." Jefferson hissed into Emma's ear, as he loomed over her. He always found that harassment made you work faster, at least that had worked in his case with the guards in Wonderland. Their harassment was partially why he was disturbed as he was today. The queen's cards were nasty knaves that enjoyed carnal harassment of their prisoners. It was no surprise that he found drugging and tying up women to be an acceptable plan of action. It was also no surprise that he had wanted to do terrible things to Emma while she was unconscious, but he had been good and he resisted those urges despite himself.

"That's not going to get me to work faster." Emma stressed, turning to look up at him and attempting to hide the lust in her eyes. Between the heated looks he was giving her and the timbre in his voice, she was turning into a woman that she did not want to be.

Jefferson ran his hands up and down her arms, "I _mean_ it though." He closed in towards her, breath dancing across her face. "I am going to," He mouthed the word, "you." He enjoyed the shudder that shook through her body. In a blink of an eye he was pulling her out of the chair and pushing her roughly onto the ground, pinning her there. "Are you going to make my hat?"

"No." Emma huffed, unsure if her air was knocked out of her because of hitting the ground or the fact that _he_ was pressing into her.

"If you don't-" He wasn't even able to finish his sentence before Emma took the upper hand and kissed him. It had been years since she'd felt this desperate to screw someone. This wasn't sweet, passionate, loving sex – this was going to be raw, hard, desperate, angry fucking. This was pent up desires and urges that couldn't be controlled.

"_Now_." Emma hissed as she pulled away from his lips, leaning back against the ground. She was hurried to remove his vest, fingers making quick work of the buttons. Pulling away his shirt and his cravat. She eyed the scar around his neck, suddenly hit by the realization he may have not been as crazy as he said.

Jefferson's fingers dug painfully into her hips as he pried off her jeans. "Fuck Emma."

"Please do." It wasn't a sweet statement, it was desperate and dirty. Her fingers traced the scar, lips joining them there. He shuddered beneath the touch, bucking into her. It had been well over twenty-eight years since he felt something that was remotely gentle.

"Emma." He groaned into the curve of her neck, pushing her thin tank top up. "What do you want?"

"I want _you_."

"What do you want me to do to?" He pressed into her, letting her know what he wanted to do to her.

"I want you to _fuck_ me." She nipped at his lip as she pressed her lips into him in a passionate kiss. She kicked her jeans off and wrapped her legs around his waist. Reaching between them she unbuttoned his pants, fumbling with the clasp. She needed him and she wasn't going to let this stop.

He wasted no time to question her decision or ensure that she was ready. He was ready. He needed her touch, he needed a touch that wasn't hurtful. Her fingers were gentle, despite the situation. She clung to him like her life depended on it. He captured her screams between their lips, to save her some explanations with Mary Margaret later. He was doing her a favor and he doubted she knew – it was all because she was doing this for him. Satisfying his need, stroking his scar, kissing his lips, bucking against his thrusts, and whimpering his name with every guttural sound imaginable.

All because she said no to making his hat. He knew she wanted this like he did. He could feel that magnetism that he'd left far behind his past. They found a sort of Wonderland together, something neither would forget no matter how much they pretended they'd forgotten.

"You've driven me mad." Emma muttered against the scar on his neck, kissing him lazily in the strange post coital bliss.

"Welcome to the mad house." He chuckled grimly, pulling her close to him. It would fade away, he knew it would. She'd realize who he was and she would run. She would leave him. Everyone left him. He was meant to go insane.


End file.
